Masquerade
by FiveRivers
Summary: Ghosts with sufficiently similar ectosignatures can share memories, thoughts, feelings. Clones have almost identical ectosignatures, and the effect does not care which ghost is the original. An Ectober fic that got so long that I'm posting it separately. Warning for brainwashing and Vlad's general creepiness.


**WARNING WARNING WARNING**

**Not only is this super long (16k+!) but it is largely a description of what I'm going to call brainwashing with a sprinkling of abuse and paranoia fuel. Read at your own risk. **

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Masquerade/Laboratory

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Against the wall, separate from the rest of the party, stood a boy known to all the world but two as Danny Fenton. He played with his mask and watched the clock, waiting for a time when it would be appropriate and acceptable to leave.

His eyes swept over the masquerade, full of people he didn't know, and didn't care to know, all wearing masks. Mostly, they were Vladco and Axion Labs employees, much older than he was. This whole thing was too loud, flashy, uncomfortable. He would have much preferred to spend the evening alone with his family, in Amity Park, not Wisconsin.

A soft smile spread over his features as he allowed himself to dwell on his most cherished fantasy. All his family and friends together with him, happy, peaceful, safe, loving, accepting him for who and what he was.

He picked out his sister, Jazz, in the crowd. She was hard to recognize in her mask, and the unfamiliar dress, but that didn't matter to a half-ghost like him. He could recognize people with senses other than the ones humans used. He found his dad, Jack a much easier proposition, seeing as he towered over most of the other guests. His mom, Maddie, was easy to find, too.

He sighed. He loved them so much, but, like this, his family was sadly incomplete. It couldn't be helped, of course, not yet, but it still hurt.

Soon, though, soon. Soon his preparations would be ready, and he'd be brave enough, strong enough, to start to reveal his secrets. The fantasy bloomed and swelled in his mind, providing a level of refuge from the overstimulation of the masquerade party.

But that comfort grew thin, and he started looking at the clock again. It was a huge, ornate thing, like something out of a fairy-tale. The whole masquerade, with its glittering masks and costumes, should have been like something out of a fairy-tale. But it lacked something. Elegance, maybe. Authenticity. It felt tacky. Tawdry. Overdone. _Fake._

It was time for him to escape.

He pushed off the wall, and reluctantly entered the crowd. As best he could, he threaded between the people, and made his way to his mom and dad. He tried not to hiss or flinch as people bumped inevitably bumped into him. He could smell alcohol on most of them.

He reached his mom, and tugged on her sleeve. "I'm going to go to bed," he said, straining to make his voice heard without yelling.

"Already? You've been looking forward to this so much."

Had it seemed that way? Crud.

"I'm just tired," he said.

"Alright, sweetie," she said. "We probably won't be up for a while."

"That's okay, we have separate rooms anyway."

"Well, that's Vlad for you. Always so generous."

He nodded in agreement, distracted by anticipation.

"Good night, Mom," he said, giving her a quick hug. He said good night to his dad as well, then he left, fleeing for quieter parts of the castle.

At first, he passed people, partiers taking a break from the main room, but after a while, he became the only one. He played with the edge of his mask. It was uncomfortable, but he had been told not to take it off without permission.

He did not go to his room.

He went to the study, and pulled on the secret lever (disguised as a football). The fireplace shifted, revealing the passage to the laboratory below.

It slid closed behind him as he went through, and he spiraled down into the earth, humming, the way forward lit only by his glowing green eyes.

He emerged into the bright lights of the lab, blinking, and smiled as he saw the two people he loved most in the whole wide world.

"Father," he chirped, happy and excited. Soon he would be doing his very most favorite thing.

"Daniel," said Father, standing from his seat in front of one of a plethora of complicated machines. "Excellent. You're just in time."

His core vibrated at the praise, and he bounced forward to embrace Father, careful not to rumple his expensive clothing. Father could get annoyed about that, sometimes.

Father ruffled his hair affectionately. Father was in a good mood tonight.

"Is he ready?" he asked, looking up. Could that be the reason for Father's good mood? That would be _wonderful. _

Father's expression fell. "Not yet," he said. "But we're getting closer."

Father put his hands on his shoulders, and turned him so that he was facing the other occupant of the lab. The _real _Daniel Fenton.

Danny was asleep, of course, and had been for almost as long as the clone had existed. He laid in a containment chamber, tubes and wires running in and out of him, padded green-silver cuffs engraved with arcane symbols circling his wrists, ankles, thighs, biceps, waist, neck, and forehead, similar bands stretched across his chest. The outside of the chamber glittered with electronics, but also with symbols copied off of the Sarcophagusof Forever Sleep. Danny was kept unconscious and powerless by a combination of science and what might as well be magic. But also very comfortable. The clone had been in the containment chamber himself many times to make sure of that.

The idea of Danny being _uncomfortable _was one the clone couldn't stand. It was even worse than Father being uncomfortable, because if Father was uncomfortable, he could just change things. Danny couldn't.

"I think he needs a few more sessions," said Father. "Then, before the end of the week, before you have to leave, we'll have a... trial run."

"Really?" asked the clone, bouncing on his toes and looking up at Father.

"Yes," said Father, chuckling indulgently. "But don't be too disappointed if we have to put him under again. In fact, we _will _have to put him under again, regardless, to put our full plan into motion."

The clone nodded, but he was so excited. He couldn't think of anything better- Well, he could: that fantasy image of his whole family, Danny, Mom, Dad, Jazz, Father, Sam, Tucker, and all his clone brothers and sisters together, safe, and happy. But having Danny awake would be the first step towards that, and he couldn't wait.

"We will have to restrain him somewhat, of course, restrict him. Perhaps modify him, temporarily, to complete our little illusion. What do you think would be best to remove?"

The clone didn't really want to answer that. He had the feeling removing anything would upset Danny. But Father was right. Father was always right. And the clone had to answer all of Father's questions truthfully when they were alone. It was a rule, and he always followed the rules.

"His voice," he said. "He won't need it, after all. I can tell you what he's thinking."

"Hm," said Father, patting the clone's shoulder in approval. "Very good. That's what I thought as well."

The clone's core purred at the approval, though he still worried about Danny and what his reaction would be to waking up without a voice.

"What should we call him when he wakes up?" asked the clone. "And am I going to be the real one, or another clone?" Sometimes, if the clone came up with a good question, pointed out a flaw in a plan, or better yet, came up with a solution, or an improvement, Father would laugh and call him clever.

"Another clone, for this trial. As for a name... Do you have anything in mind? And would you like to be called something different as well? For the purposes of the trial, of course."

The clone beamed. He was going to get his own name! _And _he got to give Danny a name, too!

This was shaping up to be the best day ever, except for the day he first met Danny and Father, which was also the day he had been born. It was hard to top that. Being able to play with Danny while he was awake might do it, though.

As it turned out, he had put a lot of thought into the matter of names.

"I was thinking, maybe Damien and Cosmo, like the saints, or Damon, or Dara, that means 'star' in some languages, or Damir, which means peace, or Dante, or Darius, or Darwin, or David, or Dmitri, or Pollux and Castor, or-" he paused for breath, and Father held up his hand.

"You have plenty of time to decide," said Father. Then Father sighed, looking at Danny. "There are a number of ways," he said, almost to himself, "steal a voice. Temporarily. Permanently. Indefinitely."

Father's hand moved sideways to brush against the clone's throat, and he felt a thrill go down his back. The clone didn't like imagining bad things happening to Danny, but he did like imagining that he was Danny. He also, and this was something of a guilty pleasure, liked imagining Danny dependent on him. He could never decide what he liked better. Danny dependent on him, or Danny protecting him.

Father looked down at him. "I think we had better go for one of the indefinite options. It wouldn't do for it to wear off, hm? Now, are you ready for tonight's session?"

"Yes, Father," said the clone, obediently. He was always obedient, loyal, and loving. The perfect son. Father had created him to be that way, so that he could teach Danny.

But he would have said yes, anyway. He loved the sessions. They made him close to Danny. Usually, sessions had to be short, only couple hours at most, because the clone had to travel from Amity Park to here. Using the portals made the journey easier, but it was difficult to find the time to get away.

Not tonight. Not this week. Father would distract Mom and Dad, and Jazz had to go back to college first thing tomorrow. She didn't know that yet, of course, but Father was good at manufacturing emergencies.

"Good," said Father. "Here is your medicine for this session." He pulled over a small cart with a tray on it.

There was a lot more medicine than there usually was, and the clone made a face at it. Pills, potions, powders, even a little cake thing. It made sense, though. This would be a longer session. He started with the powders, washing them down with the liquids, and watched Father pressing buttons on a console near the containment unit. With every other press, liquids started moving in the tubes connected to Danny. That was his medicine, which was administered intravenously, not orally.

The clone was vaguely aware of what went into the medicine. He had helped Father gather some of the reagents. Ghost Zone flowers that grew near the banks of the Lethe, waters from the spring of Mnemosyne, ectoplasm harvested from this or that great beast, crystals from the Isle of Records, etcetera. He was, however, more familiar with the effects.

His medicine made his memories sharper, and made it easier for him to reach out with his core and feelings. It put him more in control of what he broadcast, and better able to read the cores of others.

Danny's medicine did the opposite. It made his memories pliable, his thoughts vulnerable, and muted his ability to reach past the defenses of others. They were helped by the effects of some of the artifacts Father was using on him.

Of course, all that would have been moot and useless if Danny and the clone weren't so similar. Ghosts with sufficiently similar ectosignatures could share memories, thoughts, feelings. Sometimes, those memories could even be mistaken for their own. With practice, time, effort, and pharmaceutical help, one such ghost could edit the memories and feelings of another. The clone had done it before, to practice, with other clones, who were now in storage in Father's Rocky Mountain retreat, before Father had set their plan in motion.

Danny, of course, was a much more difficult subject. He had memories of his own, and more experience being his own person. But he'd been here for months, now, and the clone had been working on him all that time, along with Father.

Father had other things he was trying, tests he was running, and he did not always tell the clone what they were. Sometimes, the clone would see, through Danny's memories, dazed and confused fragments of those attempts.

The clone sighed as he finished the last of the medicine, rinsed his mouth out with the cup of water that had been set behind the tray, and popped the toffee into his mouth. Father was thoughtful, to provide something to take away the bad taste.

The clone then crawled up onto the padded table next to the bed, and laid down, waiting for the medicine to take effect. It made his mind sharp, but his body languid, sluggish, slow.

Father came around, pulled off the clone's mask, and started playing with his hair. The clone sighed in contentment.

"Now," said Father, "as we are going with the scenario where both of you are clones, you should focus on the memories that support that."

"Fake funeral?" asked the clone. Father had staged several memories, and had the clone act them out in real life, for the purpose of giving them to Danny. One of those staged memories was Danny's own funeral.

"Yes, I think that would be a good one to include. Remember, don't give him anything that would contradict him being just another clone. A _newly created _clone."

"Yes, Father." The words were blurred. His tongue was starting to feel thick and clumsy in his mouth.

"Do you think this would be better conducted with both of you in ghost form?"

"No, Father." He didn't like the pain a forced change caused Danny, and a forced change put his core on the defensive, making it hard to manipulate.

Father nodded, accepting his judgement. "If you feel like your medicine or his is wearing off, call me." Father touched his ear, where an earpiece was cunningly hidden. "Unfortunately, as the host, I must return upstairs."

"Yes, Father. I love you, Father."

Father's slow smile was incredibly rewarding. "I know," he said.

Then the clone was alone with Danny.

He waited, making sure Father hadn't forgotten anything. Then he got up, off the table, and shuffled over to the containment unit. Technically, he wasn't supposed to do this, it weakened some of the bindings placed on Danny, but it was just so much _better. _He opened the lid, and, careful of all of Danny's attachments, climbed in.

Being close to Danny was an amazing feeling. He never got tired of it. He cuddled closer, and with one hand, traced the line of Danny's face. It was exactly like his. He brought his hand down, so that his skin whispered against Danny's constellation of scars. Again, exactly like his. He had made sure of it. He hugged Danny.

Jazz had told him that positive human contact was important for people. Danny put high value on Jazz's advice, so he did, too.

Finally, at long last, he reached out to Danny's core with his, showering it and Danny with love and affection. In response, Danny's core sent back the same message, the same love; it was weak, sleepy, and confused, but, oh, so incredibly, beautifully genuine.

Danny loved him back. He always had. Since the very beginning.

The clone started the session by giving Danny new memories, of things the clone had experienced since the last session. It took Danny a while to process them, and they distracted him from other things the clone was doing. The clone started with the first memories after their last session, and continued on, lingering over the important memories of family, friends, school, and protecting their beloved Amity Park. The clone made sure to reassure him especially on the last part, soothing his Obsession. The clone knew how important it was. He had the very same Obsession, after all: keeping the people he loved happy and safe, and everyone Danny loved, the clone loved.

It would be nice, in many ways, if Danny and the clone became exactly the same. Same thoughts, same feelings, same memories, like one was the extension of the other, and neither knew where one left off and the other began. The clone purred at the thought. He liked the idea of being Danny, and he liked the idea of Danny being him. It was just another fantasy, of course, and he knew why it couldn't happen, but he was allowed his fantasies.

With Danny's memories caught up to the clone's, with all the plotting edited out, the clone tracked backwards. There, that was a good place to put the funeral, a week or so after the clone was created. In the memory, Father and the clone were the only mourners. The funeral had been kept secret. It would not do, after all, for the ghosts to discover that Phantom was no more, not to mention what news of the death would do to Danny's loved ones. The only reasonable solution was to have the clone take Danny's place, and continue to protect Amity Park. The narrative played to their Obsessions, and cast the clone in the role of a hero.

It also, once Danny was woken, provided a reason for Danny's creation. Father was lonely without the clone, and wanted someone to help him, and keep him company while the clone was away. Such a purpose would be hard for Danny to turn away from, especially if it was framed properly.

Father and the clone had put a _lot _of thought into these scenarios.

Settling the memory into place sent out ripples of distress, as expected, but the clone quickly distracted Danny by prodding more recent, happier memories into the forefront of his mind. The clone smiled, feeling how his love and happiness with his family and friends in Amity Park was reflected by Danny. But that wasn't all he wanted to be reflected.

The clone gathered together all the happy memories of Father, and stroked them, making them stand out bright in Danny's mind, accentuating the love, loyalty, and obedience in each one, the filial piety, the happiness, the contentment. Danny's response came much faster, and stronger, than it had in the beginning. It was, perhaps, not so clear as his response to memories of his birth family, but that could be forgiven.

It wouldn't have been possible at all, if Danny hadn't cared for Father at the start. It was a small care, and hidden, but present. A tiny ember that the clone had nursed through the sessions, blowing on it, and feeding it, until it was a respectable flame.

That done, the clone began to wind his way through Danny's older memories. He couldn't truly erase these, as Father had first wanted, but he could bury them, obscure them, overwhelm them, and, occasionally, write over them with memories of his own.

It was subtle work. First, he pushed memories of calling Father anything but Father away. True, the clone often had to do just that to keep his cover, but never the insults Danny had once flung around. Fruitloop. Really. He left the surrounding situations intact for the most part, but hid memories of pain, eased the interactions between Danny and Father into more benign territory, glossed over the nastier details of some of Father's plots (Danny must have misunderstood, anyway), and generally made Father look like less of an enemy, and more like the chastising parent he was.

He lingered in the memory of Danielle. He wanted so badly to meet her, his sister, but he didn't dare. Even with all the precautions he took, she might be able to read him, and then she'd know. The clone had no doubt she would try to 'rescue' Danny if that happened, not understanding that he and Father were making Danny better, improving him.

Then he moved on, to his favorite memories. These had to be handled with the utmost care, as they contained the few memories Daniel had of the clone. He paused from his work to savor them.

_Danny was in his room, lying on his bed, thinking. (Vlad) (Father) had been oddly quiet, lately. The last time Vlad had been this quiet... He glanced at his closet. It hadn't been good. _

_He fidgeted, then stood, walking to the closet door. Unless he was actively researching how to fix them, he usually tried to forget what he had hidden in his closet wall, but, sometimes, he just felt the need to check up on them. Make sure they were still there._

_Slowly, he reached into the wall, feeling for the box with his fingers. Finding it, he pulled it out, and knelt, setting it on his lab. He opened it, and sighed with relief to see all four ecto-sample preservation jars (aka Fenton Ghost Preserves) still glowing. Within each was a ghost's core. Each core belonged to a clone of Danny that had melted before they could be stabilized. _

_The first clone, melted before Danny even knew what he was, had melted close enough to FentonWorks that Danny could snatch up the ghost's core and rush home for something safe to put it in. He hadn't meant to melt the ghost, and the idea of accidentally ending someone filled him with existential dread. After that, he always carried some of the jars with him, just in case, and good thing, too, with all the other horribly melting clones. _

_He picked up one of the jars, and felt the core. It was totally unconscious. Better than being in pain. He put it back in the box._

_Someday, he would find a way to revive them, give them back their bodies. After all, if Ellie was his sister, they were his brothers._

_Downstairs, the phone rang. _

_Quickly, in case the call was for him, Danny quickly replaced the lid, and put the box back in the wall._

_Just in time. His mom knocked on the door, then opened it. _

_"Danny," she said, "Vlad wants to talk to you."_

_Danny took the phone with a (scowl) (smile). His mom, loaded down with laundry, continued on. _

_"(Vlad) (Father)," he said, (harshly) (pleasantly), "what (do you want) (can I do for you)?"_

_"I need you help," said (Vlad) (Father)._

_Danny's (scowl deepened) (smile broadened). "Like you needed my help with Vortex?" he asked._

_"More than that," said (Vlad) (Father), his voice wavering. "It's- Do you remember, with- with Danielle? What- What happened to the others?"_

_A spark of (intense) worry flared in Danny's chest. "Are you melting?" _

_"No. Not me. I- I tried it again, Daniel. I'm so sorry. I just didn't want to be alone anymore, and now... I can't do this again. I can't watch that again. Please. If not for me, than for him. If you think of Danielle as your sister, then he is your brother."_

_As (Vlad) (Father) spoke, the seed of worry sprouted into a bramble twining around and through all his limbs. He felt frozen. (How could Vlad) (How wonderful of Father to) do this again?_

_He felt himself nodding. "What do you need?" he asked. _

_"You, and whatever you gave to Danielle. It will take time."_

_"How long?"_

_"At least six hours."_

_"Fine. Where are you? Here or Wisconsin?"_

_"Wisconsin."_

_Danny groaned. "You're really a terrible mayor."_

_"Do this for me and I'll resign. I'll do anything. Please, Daniel, I'm begging you."_

_Danny looked at the phone in (disgust) (concern). Did he really think Danny would let someone die just because he didn't want to go to Wisconsin? _

_"I'll be there in an hour." He paused. "I'm telling Jazz where I'm going, and to expect me back in the morning, so no funny business."_

_"I wouldn't dream of it, dear boy."_

_Danny hung up the phone, and began packing. His conversation with Jazz was brief and to the point. He barely listened to her cautions. Within fifteen minutes, he was on his way to (Vlad's) (Father's)._

_As soon as he landed in the lab, he started handing things to (Vlad) (Father). _

_"This is ecto-dejecto," said Danny. "It's what I used to stabilize Ellie. This is another stabilizing agent. It came later, but we use it to help us heal. This is energized ectoplasm, in case the issue is with energy levels. I've got some other things in here, too. You didn't give me a lot of information about what was wrong." He breathed in. "I want to see him."_

_"Of course. This way."_

_Danny followed (Vlad) (Father) deeper into the lab, away from the portal. Finally, they came to the clone's containment chamber. He slept behind glass. _

_No. Not the clone. Danny's newest family member. His brother, who was dying. Danny felt tears prickle at his eyes. He wanted to (punch Vlad) (hug Father) for doing this again. For bringing another innocent person into this messed up situation. But now that it was done, the only thing Danny could do was help his new brother. _

_"What's his name?"_

_(Vlad) (Father) shrugged, sheepishly. "I've been calling him Daniel."_

_"Of course you have." _

_Danny drew closer to the containment chamber, and put his hand on the glass. He couldn't feel the clone through it, but he supposed he could blame the containment chamber for that. He could tell it was much more resistant than the jars in his room. He sighed. He would have liked to communicate with his new brother, even if all he could transmit were feelings. He would have liked to comfort him, tell him that he and (Vlad) (Father) were working to help him. _

_(Vlad) (Father) cleared his throat. "I'm going to need to take some samples from you," he said. "It's possible that the issue is that the original samples were corrupted or contaminated."_

_Danny thrust out his arm without hesitation. __(Vlad) (Father) already had enough of his DNA to make a clone, what did it matter if he had a little more?_

_The blood draw was bad. The ectoplasm draw was worse. But worse yet was the way __(Vlad) (Father)__ hmmed and tsked over his computer readouts and results. _

_"What?" snapped Danny, finally._

_"I'm going to need a sample of your mid-morph DNA."_

_Danny (remembered fighting the machine Vlad tried to use to harvest it before, he remembered the pain, the agony, the fear, the near-total loss of control) (didn't know why he had fought so hard to keep Father from getting it before). His mouth went dry and he licked his lips, but glanced at his sleeping brother. _

_"Fine," he said. "What do I need to do?"_

_(Vlad) (Father) picked up a bracelet from a nearby table_._ "If you put this on and transform, it will take a sample. I will warn you, it is somewhat painful."_

_"Whatever," said Danny, regarding the bracelet (warily) (curiously). He (didn't trust) (was always to interested in) stuff that (Vlad) (Father) made. "How does it work?"_

_"It detects certain changes in your ectoenergy output that precede a transformation. This button here is a release." He demonstrated, and the bracelet sprung open. "You can hit it at any time. While active, however, it should fit snuggly around your wrist, with no gaps."_

_That sounded (suspicious) (amazing)._

_An alarm sounded, and (Vlad) (Father) rushed over to a screen._

_"Quickly, Daniel, his instability is reaching critical levels!"_

_Danny hesitated for a split second longer, but grabbed the bracelet and snapped it onto his wrist. It fit (a little too) perfectly. But he was committed, now. He triggered his transformation, rings sweeping up and down his body._

_(Vlad) (Father) hadn't been kidding about it hurting. It felt like a dozen needles had been driven through his skin._

_"Good, good, that's almost it. Now, the other way."_

_Danny (glared) (grinned) he (didn't like) (greatly enjoyed) being ordered around like this. He let go of his ghost form, and again experienced the sensation of needles slamming into his flesh. He hissed, and hit the release._

_The bracelet did not come off, and an experimental tug rewarded him with more pain. He opened his mouth to complain, but was interrupted by (Vlad's) (Father's) crow of joy._

_"That's it!" he exclaimed. "That's it, that's what we needed." He typed furiously into the computer. "It's working!"_

_"That's fast," said Danny, confused. (Vlad) (Father) had said it would take hours to fix things, and he hadn't even retrieved the samples. Could the bracelet send data? That made sense, if (Vlad) (Father) had originally intended to get it on Danny during a fight._

_But speaking of fights and injuries, Danny's fingers were starting to feel funny. Stiff, numb, and tingly. They were falling asleep. The bracelet was too tight._

_"(Vlad) (Father)-"_

_"Would you like to meet your brother, Daniel?"_

_Danny was instantly distracted. "Yes," he said, eyes on the containment unit. His own discomfort could wait._

_The lid slowly opened. The clone swung his legs over the side, and stood up, unsteady, trembling, like a newborn animal. Danny rushed over to support him, embracing him with one arm. The other hurt too much to move._

_He sent love, acceptance, and encouragement to the clone, an offer of friendship, kinship, and was gratified when the clone responded in kind._

_He turned to look at (Vlad) (Father). "If you ever hurt him I'll-" He stopped._

_The words felt wrong in his mouth, blurred and fuzzy in his ears. Almost unintelligible._

_Was he supporting the clone, or was the clone supporting him?_

_One of his legs gave out, and the clone caught him, neatly answering that question. Danny tried to ask what was wrong, but only nonsense came out._

_His clone-brother and (Vlad) (Father) started talking, and Danny could tell that they were using normal, English words, but he couldn't make sense of any of it._

_What was wrong with his ears?_

_Had the lights been this bright the whole time?_

_Was he having a stroke? Was this what a stroke felt like?_

_His whole body felt heavy and limp. All but immobile. Numb and fuzzy, like he'd been packed in cotton._

_The clone murmured something into Danny's ear, and slowly started lowering them both to the ground. The clone was sending feelings at him. Everything was fine, safe, good. Security. Happiness. Love. Peace. Togetherness. Contentment. Everything was going to be better from now on._

_Danny knew that was wrong. That something was wrong. But it was hard not to feel those emotions when they were broadcast with such conviction._

_The sounds around him had morphed into rhythmic, soothing, white noise, like waves on a beach. The lights in the lab were so bright as to be blinding, washing out all colors. His brother was now emitting a sense of restfulness, an urge to sleep. His head was cushioned nicely on his brother's lap. But he couldn't close his eyes._

_(Father's) tall form blocked out some of the overhead lights, and he knelt down, next to Danny and his brother. Danny felt a spike of foreign love. Love for (Father)._

_Long fingers began to card through his hair, providing a pleasant physical counterpoint to the noise. The lights grew brighter still. He could barely see anything at all anymore, and his eyes hurt. Why was he keeping his eyes open? He was surrounded by people who loved him, he could feel it. He was safe._

_He closed his eyes. _

He did not open them again.

The clone sighed. The memory was so beautiful, and it highlighted how close to perfect Danny was.

Danny loved his clone-brothers that had been sent to fight him. He loved his clone-sister who had betrayed him. He loved the clone from the very second he saw him.

Danny had his flaws, of course, but most of them were small. A touch of laziness, of procrastination, of denial, sprinkled in with rudeness, and a tendency to not think things through. In the clone's opinion, these small flaws only accentuated Danny's overall perfection.

Danny's only big flaw, his only real flaw, was in rejecting Father. But that's what they were here to fix.

The clone had the impression Danny might not approve of their methods, knew that most people wouldn't, but, ultimately, they were putting more love into Danny's life, and love was always a good thing.

The clone sighed again, more heavily. He hated manipulating this memory. It felt like painting over a masterpiece. But it had to be done.

He began to lay over the last several minutes of the memory with his own perspective of events, from emerging from the containment chamber onward. He skipped over a few details to make it seem like the real Danny had woken after having a bad reaction to the DNA sampler, and that the clone had returned to the containment chamber to finish stabilizing.

Those details included the hours in which the clone absorbed Danny's memories, and the other preparations he had undergone so as to successfully pass as Danny.

After that, almost all the memories were of the clone posing as Danny. He didn't have to do anything extra to those.

The clone would probably return to Danny's memories several times before tonight was over, but it was time for some variety.

Another aspect of the sessions was the clone's work on Danny's Obsessions.

It was, of course, impossible to externally change a ghost's Obsessions. A ghost's Obsessions were their reason for existing. Their foundation. Any change to Obsessions had to come from within the ghost in question.

However, the clone had discovered that the prominence, focus, and activity of an Obsession could be altered by external stimulus. AKA him.

Danny had a nice, easy astronomy and space Obsession that was usually hidden under his protectiveness and need to help. The clone had been encouraging that Obsession, giving Danny extra memories of the night sky, and drawing attention to his astronomy knowledge. Danny could get quite excited about it, even asleep. Sometimes he even dreamed of stars. The clone had learned a lot.

The clone had also been busy adding Father to Danny's list of people his other Obsessions focused on. It hadn't been too hard. Danny _had_ already cared about Father, but getting him moved up the list, to where the rest of their family was, had been tricky at times. The clone's persistence had paid off, though, and Father was at about the same level as Valerie Gray. The clone had confidence that once Danny began interacting with Father again for real, Father's place on the list would go up even more.

Finally, the clone had been emphasizing ways of helping people that didn't involve violence. It wouldn't do to have Danny go off fighting ghosts again, at least not until Father had trained him. The clone could do that, and some of the injuries Danny had received in the past made him blanch.

Together, the clone hoped these measures would make that part of Danny's Obsession fade into the background.

With that, the clone pulled his awareness out of Danny's mind, and wiggled, readjusting himself and enjoying the feeling of Danny's body against his. He flicked himself into ghost form, and let his tail twine around Danny's legs.

This next part was fun, but not one Father knew about. The clone had been careful to keep it from him. He didn't want Father to stop him. Father probably wouldn't, but he didn't want to risk it.

He phased his hand into Danny's chest, and started to stroke his core directly. The first several times he had done this, Danny had reacted badly, violently, lashing out at the clone with electricity, ectoenergy, and ice, giving him little burns and chilblains. But the clone had gained Danny's trust since then, and Danny's core submitted docilely to the petting, even purring a little.

Doing this gave the clone a great and terrible feeling of power. A core was a ghost's brain, their existence, maybe even their very soul. But that was not the reason the clone did it. At least, it wasn't the only reason the clone did it.

Part of it was, of course, being close to Danny. The clone rather thought he had developed an Obsession in that direction, but he never dwelled on that. The other part was a contingency, in case the memory tricks didn't work, and they couldn't make Danny better. More perfect.

He had gotten the idea from one of Danny's memories. One that he hadn't told Father about, because it technically hadn't happened.

Ghosts could merge with one another.

It hadn't worked out well with Danny and Father, but the clone suspected that was either because Father and Danny were so different, or because their cores weren't used to each other.

But the clone, well, he was a _clone. _He was made to be similar to Danny. If he and Danny merged, then Danny would just be more Danny, with the clone's traits, like his love for Father and greater understanding of the situation, added on.

It was a delicious thought, becoming one with Danny like that.

But.

But existing separately was good, too, and the clone was pretty sure he'd have to tear himself in half to merge properly. A physical, earthly, human body would surely get in the way. He didn't want to do that, and he could always do the merge later, if this didn't work.

There was a limit to the amount of petting Danny would tolerate. As that limit approached, the clone stopped. But he didn't withdraw. He dove in.

Danny's dreams were the _best. _

Thanks to the medicines and the supernatural restraints placed on Danny, the clone was always in charge when he visited Danny's dreams. He rarely changed Danny's scenarios, instead using his control to insert himself and Father into them.

To the clone's surprise, however, he was already in this dream.

The sky was dark and starry, and the air was cold. The setting was a graveyard. Danny was laying face down on the ground, held there by hands thrusting up through the earth. The clone's dream-self (and the clone did not know how he knew it had to be him, and not a duplicate of Danny) was sitting next to him, sewing huge, feathery wings into Danny's back. Each turn of the needle was another pinprick of blood. Each pinprick of blood ran welled up and ran down Danny's side after a moment, leaving a stripe.

Sometimes, the clone had to wonder how much Danny was really aware of. As far as the clone could tell, Danny had no awareness of the true purpose of the sessions, but then he went and dreamed up things like this. It couldn't be a coincidence, could it?

The clone slipped into his dream-self. Danny sniffed, and turned his head to face him.

"Please," he said. "Stop. I want to go home."

The clone examined the needle. "You are home," he said. The clone put aside the needle, and used his control of the dream to seal the wings to Danny's back and shoo away the hands.

Danny pulled himself into a sitting position. The wings looked marvelous on him. "No, I'm not. Stop this. I'm begging you. You're hurting me."

"We're making you better."

"It won't work."

"It's working so far," said the clone, reaching out to pet the wings. They were so soft. Danny's dreams always had so much detail.

"They'll know you're not me. They'll find out."

The clone looked dream-Danny in the eye, and searched his mind for any knowledge of Father's plans. Nothing.

"They haven't yet," said the clone, cautiously. "They won't, ever. Because we're the same."

"They will. They'll hurt you." Danny's face crumpled. "I don't want you to be hurt."

Oh. How precious. The clone embraced Danny, and guided his head down to the clone's chest. He wept. Precious, and endearing, but depressing. It was time for a happy dream.

With a thought, the scene changed to that of a family dinner, warm and bright. To be safe, the clone destroyed Danny's memory of the other dream completely.

After a while playing with the new dream, the clone exited Danny. It was time to get up and stretch.

Then he would do everything all over again.

.

Later that week, the clone sat on a stool in the laboratory, pouting. Except for the Fentons, all the masquerade guests had gone home. The Fentons, meanwhile, were hunting rumors of ghosts in the next town over. Except for Jazz, who had _not _gone to take care of Father's manufactured emergency. Instead, she had been intent on staying with the clone.

It was frustrating. The clone loved Jazz, but he wanted to spend more time with Danny. He had only gotten Jazz off his back this afternoon by 'revealing' he had a 'truce' with Father, that Father was 'turning over a new leaf,' and that he really wanted to go flying.

But now, instead of a nice, rewarding, relaxing session with Danny, he was just watching Father administer the modifications, and prepare the restraints Danny would need upon waking up.

He sighed deeply, and let his eyes roam over the lab table and all the objects on it.

There was the jar with Danny's voice. The spell that removed it had called for a jar, but Father intended to move it to a more secure receptacle and store it somewhere secret as soon as he had a chance.

The next point of interest were the implants Father would insert to mimic the effects of the medicine, and keep Danny from being able to read anything from the clone but emotions while allowing the clone to read Danny normally.

Then there were the ectorestriction bracelets. They would tell Danny that they were stabilization bracelets, and that without them, he, as a clone, would destabilize. It was a bit cruel, but it was for his own good. Every time Danny would try to use a power, the bracelets would siphon off some percentage of the energy Danny put into it. Once the battery's reservoirs were full, a red light would go on. If Danny tried to use a power after that, the bracelets would dump all their power back into Danny's system in the form of ectoelectricity, knocking him out. Father and the clone would tell him, of course, that the red light meant that the bracelets were out of energy, and that he passed out because he overexerted himself. Father hadn't decided what percentage of power the bracelets would siphon off, yet, but he was thinking something along the lines of ninety percent. The bracelets looked much like the one that had drugged Danny when he had first met the clone, but they didn't even have a fake release. The only way to get them off would be to hook them up to a special machine in the lab, and have Father type in a code, although Father could change how much power the siphoned off with coded voice commands.

The clone sighed. He had worn ectorestriction bracelets a few times, while training to bring his strength up to Danny's level, though those hadn't had the shock feature. They still hadn't been pleasant.

Finally, there was a little chip that would key the castle shield into Danny's ectosignature exactly, from moment to moment, preventing him from escaping. The chip was necessary, because otherwise the shield would have to be programmed slightly more generally, and the clone would be trapped as well. That would be phased into one of Danny's bones. It was also a tracking device. Just in case. The clone had made the suggestion, when Father asked. He knew how clever Danny could be.

Closer to Father were the tools for making physical alterations to Danny, and the books on how to use them. They couldn't make too many alterations, or ones that were too distressing, or that were wrong thematically, or else Danny would instinctively reset them. A ghost's appearance depended partially on self image.

Father asked for the clone's opinion a lot in this process. The clone knew Danny best, after all, and he thought Danny would actually like some of the modifications. They were certainly thematically correct.

Still. The clone sighed again.

"Bored, little badger?" asked Father.

"No, Father. I just would like it if he could wake up."

"Well, tomorrow you will have your wish," said Father.

"Really?!"

"Really. Have you decided on names?"

The clone nodded enthusiastically. "Yep!" he said.

.

As soon as he awoke, he knew what he was, where he was, and the purpose for which he had been created, thanks to the generously-shared memories of his older brother. He inhaled, deeply, his first conscious breath. His chest strained against the bands restricting it, but they didn't bother him. Nor did the cuffs and other restraints that held him in place. They were to keep him from hurting himself in these, the first moments of his existence.

He opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was a well-groomed man with long, silver hair. His mind fluttered for a moment. He knew this man, cared about him deeply, but who-?

Then it clicked. This was Father. His creator. He didn't know why it had taken him so long to recognize him.

He smiled.

"Good morning, son," said Father.

Another figure leaned in. It wore a familiar face, one he had seen in mirrors in memories. This was his brother. "Good morning, little brother. How do you feel?"

He opened his mouth both to answer the question and to return the greeting. But he couldn't. Not only did nothing come out, he couldn't even make his mouth form words. He closed his mouth and frowned, troubled. That wasn't right, was it? But his brother sent him love and affection, and his mouth eased back into a smile.

"Father," said his brother, "I don't think he can talk, but he feels fine."

Father let out a long, thoughtful _hmmm. _"It must be a side effect of what we did to stabilize him," he said. "It might be permanent, I'm afraid." Then Father smiled down at him. "Don't worry, son. Voice or no voice, we'll love you just the same." Father patted his shoulder.

"Yeah," said his brother, broadcasting heavy reassurance, "don't worry. I can tell father everything you're thinking. It'll be just like being able to talk."

He managed a tiny twitch of his head and a smile in response. If both his father and his brother thought so, it had to be true.

"Now, I'm going to take some readings to check if you're stable, and see if we can let you out of the containment chamber," said Father. "In the mean time, I believe your brother has a birthday present for you."

"That's right," said his brother, sitting on the edge of the containment chamber. "I've come up with names, for both of us!"

He smiled in excitement, hoping his brother could pick up what he was feeling. Names were important.

"Names _are _important," agreed his brother. "I think you'll like these. They were the names of twins. Like we are, even though we're born a bit apart, technically speaking. _And _they're the names of people in a constellation. Can you guess?"

Of _course_ he could guess! It had to be Pollux and Castor, from Gemini. His brother, being older, and the perfect clone, would be Pollux, while he would be Castor.

"That's right!" sang his brother. "Do you like it?"

He _loved _it. Constellations were amazing, and it was like saying he and Pollux were part of the same constellation.

"I was thinking Cosmo might be good, too, but I decided it was a little silly."

A wise choice. It would have been nice, too, though. Castor didn't think Pollux could pick a _bad _name. Besides, who else was going to use it?

Actually, that was kind of depressing. He knew he was made to be a companion to Father, and only Father, but he would have liked to meet Mom, Dad, Jazz, Sam, Tucker, and everyone else, too.

"You will, eventually," assured Pollux, wiping away Castor's momentary sadness. "We just have to ease them into the idea of you, first. Well. Not Mom and Dad, I guess. But the others, the ones who know. They think I'm the real Danny, remember? You can be me, the clone he helped Father stabilize."

That was a bit confusing, but Castor smiled.

"It isn't even a real lie, is it? But I've only just told them I have a truce with Father, so it'll take a while."

Castor understood. This was complicated. It was too bad the real Danny was dead. He probably could have fixed this, and he seemed like such a good person.

"He was," said Pollux, wiping away a tear making its way down Castor's face. "But between the two of us, it's like he's still here, isn't it?"

Father came back. "I have good news and bad news. The good news is that you will be able to come out, at least for a short time. The bad news is that you will have to wear these." He held up two silvery bracelets. They were pretty. "They're stabilization bracelets." He started to explain how they worked.

Castor was touched. Had Father made them just for him?

"He did," said Pollux, after Father wound down. "He worked very hard on them."

"Yes," said Father, briskly, leaning into the containment chamber to put them on. "Now, be careful, even with these, if you over-strain yourself, you'll start to destabilize, and for these to work they have to stay charged. If the red light comes on, stop using your powers and get me immediately. I will show you how the charging machine works, in case you can't find me, but if you use it without me present, it will initiate an emergency procedure to put you into stasis until I return. Understand?"

That sounded frightening. He swallowed. Not following Father's rules would be a very bad thing. Very bad. Terrible. Scary things would happen. But following them would make everything _wonderful_. Father's rules were always right.

"He understands," said Pollux.

They unlatched Castor from the unit, and he sat up, but he got dizzy and had to lie down again. He was weak, his limbs much thinner and frailer than Pollux's. His heart raced even after this small exertion. It took Castor a while to get up and out, to a chair.

"Don't worry, dear boy," said Father, affectionately tousling Castor's hair. "You'll be up to strength in no time."

Castor leaned into the touch. He was happy. It felt good. But there was something else. A burst of emotion from Pollux swamped that something else, driving it from his mind.

"That's right. Remember, it took me a while to get used to moving around, too. This is your first time, you know." Pollux held Castor's hand, transmitting patience, and, as always, love, belonging, and reassurance.

Of course. Pollux was right. Castor had known that. He just didn't want to be a burden.

The sensation of belonging redoubled. "You'll never be a burden."

Castor looked down at his hand in Pollux's. Pollux's was smooth and pale all over. His was covered in little spots. Freckles. Castor had known he didn't look right, that he wasn't right, that he was wrong and imperfect and broken, but the comparison-

Pollux was tracing a shape in the freckles. It looked familiar. Was that-?

Pollux giggled. "I'll get you a mirror." He ran to the other side of the room, picked up a small oval, then came back.

For the first time, Castor saw his face. It had the same shape as Danny's, as Pollux's, the same eyes, ears, and mouth, but the freckles changed its character significantly, as did the silver strands in his hair, and the too-sharp canine teeth. He raised a hand to trace along the dots on his face, connecting them with invisible lines. They were constellations. His whole body was covered in constellations. Polaris was in the center of his forehead, Ursa Minor pointing up, to his hairline, Cassiopeia and Cepheus splayed across his cheeks and neck. Perseus and Cygnus were on his collarbones, and Pegasus was on his chest. Aquarius and Cetus were just above his waist. There were others. All Fall constellations. The spring ones must be on his back. The ones below his waist must belong to the Southern Hemisphere, but he wasn't as familiar with those.

"We have lots of astronomy books," said Pollux. "I know it isn't as good as going out and seeing them all for real, but you can't do that until the Fentons leave. Would you like me to get them? We can map you out. We can find where we are. Gemini."

Castor nodded vigorously. Pollux gave Castor a hug, and kissed him right on Polaris. Castor giggled, and waved to Pollux as he darted to a bookshelf on the other side of the room.

Father shifted so that he was standing behind Castor, and put both hands on his shoulders. Castor looked up, eyes wide, and hesitant. Why did he feel threatened? Father loved him. Father had made him. The feeling was washed away by a wave of _safety, _sent his way by Pollux.

"Do you love me, little badger?"

Castor nodded, confused. Father smiled, satisfied. Castor was happy. He was happy whenever Father was.

Pollux came back with a stack of large, colorful books. They had stars on them, and Castor wanted to look through every one. He wanted to memorize and understand them.

"You'll have plenty of time to do that," said Pollux, "and there are lots more where these came from. You won't be bored for ages. Until I can visit again, at least."

Castor didn't like the thought of Pollux leaving.

"Neither do I, but I have to. Amity Park, you know. Honoring the original's memory."

Part of Castor wanted to go, too.

Pollux pushed the feeling of duty at Castor, and it soaked into his mind. Castor had to stay with Father, of course. What would he even do in Amity Park? How would he live there? He would be _much _more helpful here.

"Much more entertained, too," said Pollux.

They should find Gemini first.

"I think so, too."

Father coughed, and both boys looked at him immediately, alert, ready for instructions. "There are a few things I need to take care of," said Father. "The two of you entertain each other while I'm gone."

"We will, Father," said Pollux, as Castor nodded.

"Castor," said Father. "Before I go, this is your room." He gestured at the surroundings. "You may use it, and the bathroom through that door," he pointed, "as you see fit. However, you may not leave without my express permission. Do you understand?"

Castor nodded, wide-eyed, and looked around the room for the first time. It was so big, and nice, roomy even with the large containment chamber in the center. There were bookshelves full of books, and a desk with a computer and a game system, and- oh!- the ceiling had stars on it.

"He understands, Father," said Pollux, "he's just overwhelmed. He's very thankful, and he especially likes the stars."

Castor blushed and nodded.

Father ran his hand through Castor's hair again, and put his fingers under his chin, tilting his head up. "I'll be seeing you again soon," he promised. Then he left, giving Pollux a pat on the head.

"So," said Pollux, "Gemini."

.

The two brothers laid on the bed in Castor's room, looking at a book about kinds of stars and star life cycles. It was the second-to-last night Pollux would be here. After that, he'd leave for Amity Park.

Pollux snuggled closer. "I'll try to visit again, soon," he said.

Castor felt reassured. Or was that just because Pollux was sending him reassurance? He wasn't sure. Unless Pollux was sending him a whole lot of an emotion, he couldn't really tell which emotions were his, and which were Pollux's. Thoughts were similar. He was never sure if Pollux was just thinking the same things he was, or if he was just reading Castor's core. Did it matter, though? They were so similar. When they were in the same situation, surely they would think the same thoughts, feel the same things. Right?

"We're like a binary star," said Pollux. He turned and smiled at Castor. "We're so similar, we might as well be the same person."

Binary stars were still different, though.

"I know it's silly, but it's just a simile. Still. We're similar. We're the same. We're _clones. _Of course it doesn't matter who thinks what or feels what first. It would be the same anyway, but it's better, because we get to share. There's no one else who can share like us. We'll always understand each other."

Castor nodded. That was a great way to say that, and he was so confident. It _had _to be true.

.

"I think I will let him stay awake," announced Father.

Pollux paused, and set aside the tool he was cleaning. "Really?" he asked, surprised. The plan had been to put Danny back to sleep tonight, and start preparations for the 'final' scenario, where Pollux was the original Danny, and Danny was the clone. That scenario hadn't been used this time, because both Pollux and Father had agreed it would be easier for Pollux to act naturally, rather than how Danny should have acted, and that it was easier to keep tabs on Danny in this scenario.

"Yes. This scenario is going well. He's been obedient, following instructions even when it would be easy to do otherwise. He has shown no signs of realizing who and what he is. His powers are under control. He's been as affectionate as you. I find it hard to justify throwing away a bird in the hand."

That made perfect sense. Pollux nodded. At the same time, he felt a stab of, what, jealousy? Ridiculous.

"Do you see any reason we shouldn't proceed as we have been?"

Pollux couldn't exactly say that he had been looking forward to having the real Danny think that _he _was the real Danny, and look up to him like Pollux looked up to the real Danny. That would be silly, and not a reason.

"No, Father."

.

The last night before he left, Pollux slipped into Danny's dreams again. Danny slept heavily these days, a side effect of the medicines Father was giving him to 'stabilize' him. He didn't notice.

It was the same dream he had come upon before. Danny with wings, sitting in a graveyard.

"You can still stop this," said dream-Danny. "You don't have to follow Vlad. We can be together as a family. Just let me go home. We can go home."

Pollux frowned. "What do you think is going to happen, exactly?"

"You'll get caught. You'll get hurt."

"By who? No one knows, except you and Father. No one will ever know."

"They _already _know."

The frown had turned into a scowl. "How are you even doing this? How can you remember? I've checked. You shouldn't."

"You don't understand. I'm not having this dream now."

The dream faded, then, into a much more pleasant one of Amity Park at night.

.

Castor wasn't bored, exactly. He had lots of things to do. Lots of things to work on, and he did work on them.

He had the freedom of the castle and the grounds, now, a week after Pollux had left. He could explore, right up to the edge of the protective ghost shield, and he did. He had all his books, fascinating ones about space facts, exciting science fiction ones, whatever he wanted. He could read them, and he did. He had his games, which he played. He had space documentaries to watch, and movies, too. He could play with Maddie the cat. Father had given him a list of chores, which he had done right away. He had a dozen little self-assigned projects undertaken to make Father happy.

But Father was gone for long stretches of time, in the middle of the day. Castor understood why, of course. Father was a very important man, with lots of responsibilities, in both worlds. Castor was grateful for even the relatively small amount of time and attention he received from Father. But it wasn't enough.

If Father was gone at night it wouldn't be so bad. Castor's main Obsession, as it turned out, was astronomy. Obsessions were great distractions. But there were a limited number of astronomy things to be done in the daylight.

If there was only someone, anyone, else here, with him, someone who would talk to him, it would be bearable. But there wasn't.

The enforced silence was doing funny things to his head, too. Music, movies, and other things that made sound helped, but it wasn't the same as talking. He kind of felt like he was being over-dramatic. After all, Deaf people had it worse. He was only mute.

But since he didn't have to make his thoughts comprehensible for other people anymore, they had started to lose order entirely. He had started writing, but writing with the bracelets on made his wrists hurt, and Father had seemed sort of disapproving, so he had stopped. He'd asked Father about sign language, too, but Father had given him a hurt look, and asked who, exactly, Castor wanted to talk to other than Father and Pollux. Wasn't family enough for him?

He didn't talk in his dreams anymore. Not even in his dreams of being Danny. Then there were the dreams where Danny was talking to him, telling him things about false memories, voices on shelves, and lies. He didn't have to be Jazz to know what those were about. He knew he was an imperfect clone.

He wished Pollux was here.

Castor sighed and headed for Father's library. He'd had a dream about it the other night. Maybe looking at something more practical would do him good. Maybe, in all of Father's books about ghosts, he could find a way to make himself stable permanently, without the bracelets.

He ignored the voice telling him that, if there was something like that in the library, Father would have found it. It wasn't right, after all. Danny's memories showed him that Father could make mistakes, could be wrong, even with the best intentions. That was why Father needed Castor.

The library made Castor think of Jazz, Clockwork, and Ghostwriter. Thinking of Ghostwriter and Christmas felt a little funny, because he knew that this Christmas he would not be with Mom, Dad, Jazz, or even Pollux. It would just be him and Father, and Father wouldn't be with him the whole time, because Father held a big Christmas party every year. At least there wouldn't be any fighting.

Castor wandered around the room, looking at anything that caught his fancy, and putting them back neatly when he lost interest. A couple of them had to do with ghost powers, and Danny tried out their suggestions, but the best he managed was a bout of intangibility that sent the book tumbling through his hands and left him panting and shaking.

He stopped after that. He didn't want to use up the charge on the bracelets without Father here. The idea of going into stasis scared him. The idea of destabilizing scared him more.

He found a ghost history book that looked interesting, and started looking for a place to settle down and read. The books from the library stayed in the library.

The tables in the center of the room had things Father was working on on them, and Castor didn't want to disturb them. He made his way to a dusty, unused corner and sat down. Doing so, he noticed a book wedged behind a shelf. Curious, he pulled it out, and started leafing through it.

It was about divination. Seeing the future. It looked like Father had been researching it, but had given up on getting any of the methods to work.

Castor paused on a chapter, with lots of notes in the margins, about prophetic dreams, and how to gain knowledge of one's future or past self. He didn't know if anything written here would work, and a lot of it called for chanting and incantations, which he couldn't do, but... He frowned. This little bit, and that. Clockwork had shown him- Well, Danny- how to do them. Then, here, Clockwork had given him a workaround for chants like this, a way to substitute a silent component.

That meant Clockwork knew about this, about Castor, and wanted him to do well. A warm fuzzy feeling settled into his chest. He couldn't wait to show this to Father! But first, he had to test it out himself and make sure it worked.

He'd do the ritual, with all the workaround and tips Clockwork had given him, it would be easy, and then he'd take a nap.

All he had to do was draw some symbols on a piece of paper, drip a little blood on them (his sharp teeth helped with that), and make a few arcane gestures. He finished with a flourish, and waited to see if anything changed or felt different.

The bracelets' red lights came on.

Oh no.

Not wanting to destabilize, he hurried downstairs to the lab and practically threw himself into the charging machine.

The machine reminded Castor of a dentist's chair, only with more padding and arcane attachments. He made sure he was seated properly and put the bracelets into their proper position over the sensors on the armrests. At once, the machine clamped onto the bracelets, surrounding them completely with larger cuffs.

Castor glanced uneasily at the monitoring station. If Father's code wasn't input soon...

Two tiny pinpricks in his wrists interrupted the thought, and numbness spread from them.

He hoped Father or Pollux would be home soon.

.

Pollux slipped into a disused closet, and pulled his secret phone out of his pocket. "Hello?" he whispered, worried. Father rarely called him, especially not during school, and Danny's odd dreams had had him on edge all week.

"I need you to go check on your brother. He seems to have triggered the warning on his bracelets."

"I understand, I'll leave immediately," said Pollux. It was only one in the afternoon, so leaving would be noticed, but he could always blame it on a ghost attack. To his friends, at least.

"Good, I will join you as soon as I am able." Father hung up.

Pollux flicked himself into ghost form, and immediately made for the Fenton Portal. He was at the castle in record time. To his relief, Danny had obediently put himself into stasis, and had not triggered the shock feature of the bracelets.

He pulled over a stool, and sat next to Danny, tracing his features like he used to, when Danny had been in the containment chamber. He sighed, and started looking through Danny's memories to find out what had happened. Father would surely ask.

As soon as Father arrived, he did.

"He just overused his powers," said Pollux. "He was in your library, and he was trying to use your research to activate them."

"So there's no problem with his programming?"

"No, Father."

"Why was he doing that, though? Was he bored? Doesn't he have enough to entertain himself?"

"It isn't like that, but..."

"Go on."

Pollux considered his phrasing. "I think he's lonely. It's his Obsession, to help people, and if there are no people..." Pollux shrugged. "We strengthened his astronomy Obsession, but there's a limited amount of stuff he can do during the day, and you're also gone during the day, so he gets... fidgety, I guess. He used to satisfy his helping people Obsession all the time, and in a big way."

"I see. Should I give him more chores, then?" asked Father.

"That might help. But I think it might help more if you made him change his sleep schedule so that he sleeps while you're gone and can look at the stars while you're sleeping. It might get worse during the winter when it's overcast all the time, though."

Father put a finger to his lips. "Yes, that's a good thought, but not a fix. What if... What about waking one of your brothers? We would, of course, tell Daniel that they were a newly created clone, one made especially to be his companion. They would keep an eye on each other, and the clone would reinforce Daniel's treatments."

Pollux swallowed, and forced down jealousy. "I think that would work," said Pollux. "We'd have to be careful about how we 'grew' him, and what we told Danny about it. What the clone was impressed with, too, and which one."

"D44, I think," said Father, "and we would give him the same memories as Daniel."

"Less chance of Danny finding a hole or a contradiction if he manages to read him?"

"Just so." Father walked over to play with Danny's hair. "Anything else?"

"I think," started Pollux, not sure if this was something he should bring up, "that not being able to communicate is messing with him, too. At least in his memories, his thoughts feel more... jumbled, I guess? Fewer words, more feelings and pictures? Not, like, a lot, but noticeable."

"Good," said Father.

"Good?" asked Pollux, surprised.

"Yes. One of the medicines I am giving him is to accelerate that process. Pseudomyosotis alexiconia. You helped me gather it from the Ghost Zone."

"But... why?"

Father smiled. "Keeping him silent inspired me. I realized that we don't want him to communicate with anyone but us, after all, so why let him retain the ability? The dose is low enough that he will retain his ability to understand language. If it becomes necessary for him to communicate verbally or in writing with us, we can teach him to do so in something suitably obscure."

"I see," said Pollux, hiding his distaste for the idea.

"If I'd known how nice it was not to have him question me, I would have been administering it all along," said Father, chuckling. He ran a finger down the side of Danny's face. "Like this, I don't need to explain anything, he can only trust me, and obey. An elegant solution, don't you think?"

"Yes, Father."

Father nodded. "You should return to Amity Park."

"Yes, Father."

Pollux walked slowly to the portal. He did not want it to look like he was running away.

.

When Castor woke, it was like no time had passed, but Father was there. He smiled, relieved.

"Hello, Castor. Do you feel stable?"

Castor nodded.

"Good. You scared me, you know. You shouldn't try to use your powers without supervision."

Castor's eyes stung, both at the reprimand, and at the idea of causing Father any distress. He felt oddly unbalanced.

"I'm going to release you now. Sit up slowly. I've given you a stabilizing agent. It may make you feel strange."

Castor nodded again. The machine snapped off of his bracelets, and he obeyed, sighing. Father came over, and gave him an affectionate embrace, kissing his hair. Castor hugged him back, trying not to cry.

"You can cry if you want," said Father, stroking Castor's shoulder. "I know how frightened you must have been."

The tears started pouring out of Castor's eyes. Father comforted him. Father would always make sure Castor was safe, but Castor had to follow the rules.

"I'm have changed your sleep schedule," said Father.

Castor was still crying, but he was crying silently, so it was no obstacle to hearing and understanding Father.

"In fact, I'm have changed your entire schedule. You have more structure to your time, and this will not happen again." Father led him to a computer screen with a colored list on it. "This will be your schedule for your next day. Every evening, when I return and you wake, I will give you a new schedule. I'm sure it's a relief to you, not to be at loose ends while I'm away."

Castor looked at the schedule. Every minute of his time was parceled out and accounted for. His chores had expanded. Father had assigned him readings from the library and other activities. It _was _a relief. He wouldn't have to wonder about what would help Father, or what Father expected him to do, nor would he have to worry about accidentally running out the charge on his bracelets while Father was away.

It was too bad the prediction thing didn't work, though.

Father patted Castor's shoulder. "I've also noticed," began Father, rather hesitantly, "that you have been feeling lonely."

Castor looked up at Father in surprise. He didn't think he'd been so obvious about it.

"Don't look so surprised, I have my ways," said Father, playfully tweaking Castor's nose. "How would you like a new brother?"

Castor's eyes widened. A new brother? For him? To be his friend? To stay here, and keep him company? He nodded vigorously.

Father laughed. "It will take a while," he said, "and we will want to make sure that, well, what happened to you doesn't happen to him."

Castor nodded even more vigorously. Of course. Of course. He wouldn't wish this silence and weakness on anyone. He wanted his brother to be strong and free.

"Very good. Now, for your new schedule, you'll be staying up until I leave this morning. Until then, you will help me run some experiments."

The experiments were mostly experiments on Castor. Some were pretty mundane. He ran on a treadmill, lifted weights, breathed into a tube. Others were esoteric. Father wanted to test a lot of odd tools and artifacts on him. Castor longed to ask what each one was, what each one was _supposed _to do, and what Father wanted them for, but he contented himself with knowing what they did to him. Or what they seemed to do to him. Father wasn't forthcoming with the results he was getting from the wires stuck to Castor.

After a while, there were too many things to keep track of. A gun that made him shrink and then grow. An engraved disk that made him giggle uncontrollably when he touched it. A necklace that made his freckles and eyes shine and sparkle, and get brighter, and brighter, and brighter until they hurt to look at. An eyeless, mouthless mask that stuck to his face for ten minutes, and then fell off and couldn't be put back on. A set of symbols that made his mouth water, his nose run, and his eyes tear up. A second set of symbols that made his mouth, nose, and eyes run with sticky ectoplasm. A cream that made his skin temporarily ghost-green. A light bulb he couldn't look away from while it was on. A mirror that, when he looked at his reflection in it, made his teeth slowly grow longer and sharper.

It took both him and Father a while to notice the effect of the mirror, so now his canines were really more along the lines of fangs. He licked them, feeling put out. He was even more different from his original than he had been before.

Soon after, it was time for dinner. Father had a ghost cook, who haunted the stove. He never came out except for mealtimes, and he rarely spoke. Father had put wards around the kitchen, so he couldn't leave. His food was always delicious. Castor worried about him sometimes, but Father and Pollux had both said he was happy.

The food, fillet mignon and fancy little colorful potatoes with the skin still on, was as good as always, but Castor had a hard time eating with his new dentition. He had to open very wide to get a good bite of anything into his mouth, and he kept biting his cheek, lips, and tongue. Finally, he just pushed the food away, defeated, even though he was still hungry.

Father looked at him with concern, then went to the kitchen and came back with a bowl of soup. Castor brightened. Father had noticed, and had come up with a solution. Father was so nice to him.

After dinner, it was time for Castor to take his medicine. The medicine always made him feel weird, right after. Sluggish and dazed. That was, Pollux had said, how you knew it was working. So Castor just laid on Father's lap while Father watched his sports and TV shows. His core purred.

Then, Father went to bed. It was hard for Castor to stay awake, but Father had said he had to, and so did the schedule. So Castor went ahead and followed it, as well as he could. He knew he didn't do a very good job. He was too tired.

All the time for stargazing was very nice.

But Father was forgiving in the morning, and even tucked Castor into his bed downstairs in the room off the lab before he left.

Castor went to sleep. He dreamed.

_Danny _woke up.

.

"I knew this would happen," said Danny to himself, in the dream. "I knew this would happen, so I planned for it. Clockwork helped. A lot." He made a face. "Well, I guess I didn't plan for _this_ exactly. Definitely not for being unconscious for months. That was a surprise. But I knew Vlad would try brainwashing eventually. It was really the only play he had left, and there are so many ways to brainwash ghosts it's scary."

The other Danny, who couldn't speak, nodded, urging him to continue. They were in a graveyard, under the stars of Amity Park, which were just a little different from the stars of Wisconsin.

"Like, there are a lot of things you just can't change about a ghost, but you can add things in. Thing is, I'm not _just _a ghost. Clockwork and I were able to set up this kind of double-brainwashing thing. A trigger phrase, sort of, that would make us do some kind of metaphorical mental time travel stuff. Not something I can explain completely while we're asleep, I don't understand it that well, yet, but thinking about anything related to seeing the future or time travel without being aware of this," he waved his hands around, "would have triggered it. Would have made you unlock this. Clockwork says that we're a natural seer, you see. Prophetic dreams, and stuff, seeing the future when we're in altered states of mind, etcetera. So it would have come up, eventually, but not in a situation that would immediately tip off the brainwashers. Got everything so far?"

Danny nodded to himself, and sighed.

"I won't lie, I, we, you, whatever, we're pretty much screwed right now. Pollux is way smarter than Vlad, and he's the one that did most of it, poor guy. But at least we know we're screwed, now, and we can use that. We _can_ get out of this, because we remember getting out of it. Prophecy stuff. But not an inevitable one. Future's not set in stone."

Another sigh. "Luckily, we only have to be smarter than Vlad."

.

Pollux woke up late on Saturday. He'd stayed up most of the night fretting over what he had learned. It was one thing to make sure Danny stayed in a safe place, to widen his ability to love, but taking away a basic human ability like communication was a lot different.

He groaned as he sat up. Danny wasn't able to do even that. It wasn't right. That was supposed to be temporary. Adding expressive aphasia to that was cruel. It didn't make sense. Father was treating Danny more like a pet than anything else. It was like he just wanted to control Danny. True, controlling Danny was an important part of their plan, but Pollux's understanding had been that it would be temporary. That once Danny had seen how much better things with Father were, he would work to make Pollux's fantasy of one, big, happy family come true.

That Danny would _choose _to do that. What good was it for him to be safe, if he didn't have any freedom to enjoy it?

Oh. Oh, Ancients. He had messed up.

With that one question, he finally _understood _Danny. He thought he had before, but he had been so, so very wrong.

He swung his legs off the bed. There had to be some way to fix things.

His breath turned cold and white. He groaned. If this was the Box Ghost... But he did have to take care of the problem at hand first, and he owed it to Danny to keep Amity Park safe.

It was the Box Ghost.

He beat the annoying specter up in an alley a few blocks from Fentonworks, somewhat more viciously than was his wont.

"Hey."

He turned to face the familiar voice. "Jazz?" he asked, surprised. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at college?"

Jazz shrugged and walked closer. "It isn't that far to drive, to visit my favorite brother."

"I'm your only brother," retorted Pollux, rolling his eyes, and flipping over in the air so he was upside down. He had to keep the act up. He had to act relaxed, playful, like Danny would be.

"Hm," said Jazz. She whipped out a Fenton Thermos from behind her back and sucked Pollux in. "_Nothing _is too far for my favorite brother," said Jazz, voice echoing through the walls of the thermos, "and it's really too bad you aren't him."

.

Pollux knew where he was the moment he was dumped out. He recognized it, even if had never been here, personally. After all, he had been avoiding Clockwork.

"Hello, Pollux," said the time ghost.

"Hi," said Pollux, not getting up. He stared up at the great pendulum of Clockwork's lair.

"That's your name?" asked Jazz.

Pollux floated to his feet. "Yeah."

"Where's Danny?"

"With Father," said Pollux. He played with the edge of his glove. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?" snapped Jazz.

Pollux flinched.

"Be kind," admonished Clockwork. "Vladimir literally built him to be obedient, to always follow orders, to not question what he was doing. He didn't have a choice."

"I only just understood," said Pollux. "I didn't before."

"You were still lying," said Jazz. "Still pretending to be Danny." She sniffed, and wiped a tear away from her eye. "Why? Danny would have accepted you. He thought of you as a brother even before he left. I would have, too."

Which meant she didn't now. Pollux sagged. "What gave me away?" he asked, quietly.

"I suspected from the beginning, from the morning you first came. It was little things that could be dismissed, not calling the mailman by name, eating toast, those spelling test, but they added up. There were big things, too. You didn't tell Ellie about the 'clone you helped Vlad save,' and Danny would have. He wears a lot of masks, and he tells a lot of lies, but he wouldn't have kept that from Ellie. That was a red flag. But I only really _knew _after the masquerade at Vlad's. All that time without our parents in the castle, and you didn't once suggest that I meet your clone?" Jazz laughed, but it was slightly hysterical. "That was the nail in the coffin."

"Oh," said Pollux. At least, he comforted himself, they were things out of his control. He couldn't tell Ellie. He couldn't introduce 'the clone' to Jazz.

"So I came to Clockwork to ask for advice, and he showed me what was happening. What you did to Danny." She shook her head. "You're family, and I know what Vlad did to you was awful, but I don't think I'll be able to forgive you." She looked at Clockwork. "I'm sorry, I have to go." She spun on her heel and marched out. Pollux caught a glimpse of the Specter Speeder beyond the door.

"Now what?" he asked Clockwork, resigned.

"You know," said Clockwork, "my situation is not entirely unlike yours. I cannot leave my lair except on orders from the Observants."

That wasn't what Pollux had been expecting. He blinked.

"Daniel is one of the few ghosts who visit me regularly, and for nothing more than companionship. He is one of my only friends. I would not hurt someone he loves so much. But I cannot let you return to Vladimir."

"What about Danny?"

"He is more resilient, and more cunning, than you think. Come with me. I would like to offer you a choice."

Pollux followed Clockwork down past hundreds of ticking clocks, into the bowels of the lair. The came to a stop in front of a huge door that Clockwork opened with a wave of his hand. Behind the door was a thermos.

"All of us have a purpose in this world," said Clockwork. "I know what you have fantasized about. But this may not be your purpose. You may choose another."

"What other?" asked Pollux, breathlessly.

"Being my companion, assistant, apprentice, and guest, until you are no longer a danger to yourself and Daniel. After that, you may stay or go. It would be up to you."

Pollux shook his head. "No. I want to try it. Let me try."

"Very well," said Clockwork. He picked up the thermos, and pointed it at Pollux. With a flash of blue, Pollux vanished.

In the thermos, he could feel Dan's core, made of Father's and Danny's and in so much pain, so close to his.

How _wonderful_.

.

Danny was screwed.

Oh, he'd known that from the moment he woke up, but this evening with Father (who he couldn't even think of as anything else) had really driven it home. He had all his memories, but he also had Pollux's memories, and they interacted weirdly, his emotions were all over the place, and seeing anything astronomy related distracted him for a good fifteen minutes at a time.

Then there was Father. Danny wanted to hit the man, but even contemplating actually, physically, doing so made him ill and panicked. Pollux had done something to make Danny's protective and helping Obsessions latch onto Father, but the real issue was that for the last week Father had been the only one feeding that side of his Obsession, and, unless Danny got out, Father would continue to be the only one.

(He felt violated.)

But Danny wasn't in any position to pick a fight. He had to play along. It wasn't so bad. Father wasn't being like he had been in the past. He wasn't actively beating Danny up. In fact, he was being quite caring. Nice. Gentle. Attentive. Affectionate. Loving.

No, no, no. He pulled himself out of that train of thought. Father was in the middle of testing miscellaneous ghost artifacts on him. That was _not _nice, or any of the other things. He was also lying when he said that it was to find something that would stabilize Danny. Danny _knew _that. So why did the lie feel so good to hear?

He picked up a decorative tortoiseshell comb at Father's direction, and put it in his hair. It didn't do anything until he took it out, at which point his hair promptly grew a foot. Father had him put the comb in and take it out several more times, until pooled on the floor behind Danny's chair, then cut the hair off into a bob like Mom's. Father then put the hair away in a separate container. Danny did not want to think about what he could do with it. Voodoo dolls came to mind.

The next thing was a pair of white magician's gloves. Danny put them on, and when he took them off, he couldn't make his hands tangible. Sadly, he also couldn't push off the bracelets, which he was now sure were inhibitors of some kind.

Then it was time for dinner. His hands still hadn't returned to the touchable world, so Father cut up his food and fed him, smiling. It was creepy. Did Father get off on having Danny helpless, somehow? But it was so kind of him, so thoughtful, so-

Stop that.

He couldn't. He had been conditioned to love Father and he hated it.

As it had been for the past week, after dinner was 'medicine.' Father fed that to him, too. Danny didn't want it. In his dream, he had found out what some of it was, what it was doing to him. But he couldn't avoid it, not with Father literally pouring it down his throat.

So after dinner, Danny was fuzzy and foolish, _drugged_, and couldn't resist. Couldn't help but purr when Father petted him.

Later, when Father was asleep, he hated himself.

But Danny could try and come up with something, now. He had memories from the past and the future, hands that were tangible again, and a brain that was mostly functional, despite Father.

But... The schedule. He had to follow it.

No, he didn't.

Father would know if the chores weren't done.

So he did the chores. By the time he was done, he was half out of his mind with internal conflict.

He _had_ to do something to Father. Something bad. But he couldn't. But would Father do something bad to Danny? Of course not, Father loved him. So he could do to Father what Father was doing to him. Excellent.

He started to march to the lab to find something, but was distracted by stars outside the window. He lost an hour, staring up at them in wonder. One of the drugs had to be something that exaggerated Obsessions. Or Pollux had broken him. He really hoped it was the drugs.

What had he been doing?

His head swam.

What would really help, was doing something good for someone other than Father. It hit him. The cook. He could break the wards around the kitchen. But Father would notice that, unless the cook really _was _happy, and stayed.

But now a chorus of _help help help_ was echoing in his core, and Danny didn't really want to ignore it. Hands shaking, he went to the kitchen and rubbed away the teeny, tiniest bit of the ward, which still rendered it useless. The cook came out of the oven, nodded at Danny, then went back in. Danny sighed in relief. He could think more clearly, now.

More important than getting back at Father was getting away. How could he do that?

He went outside and tested the shield. Still strong. He poked his powers. Still suppressed. Not that way. Could he destroy or disable the generator? First he had to find where it was. Could he go through the Zone? No, Father kept his portal locked. Could he call for help? No, the only phones in the castle were landlines and Danny couldn't talk.

Then he slapped himself in the face. There were some numbers that would send help even if you didn't talk. Sure, he wasn't sure how helpful they would be, but...

But, no. He couldn't. Not with all the ghost stuff in the lab. The GIW would be called.

Screw it. They could probably be worse than this, since they'd add dissections into the mix, but they wouldn't be called right away, especially if the lab wasn't found. Which it wouldn't be, because... because it would be pretty obvious why they had been called. Danny smiled evilly.

He went down into the lab and started searching. He found what he needed. Father really needed to have better security for these things. Sadly, he did not find his voice, which he was fairly sure had been moved to another of Father's hideouts, or destroyed entirely, or a way to magically remove the bracelets.

He trashed the lab, destroying as much as he thought he could get away with without tripping an alarm.

Silent as a ghost, Danny slipped into Father's room. He crept up to Father's bed, and raised both hands up, over his sleeping form. In one motion, he slammed both the Plasmius Maximus and a _massive _syringe of Pseudomyosotis alexiconia extract into Father's chest. Father spasmed and choked. Danny depressed the plunger. Then he ran. A wordless cry of rage followed him down the hall.

Wow. That stuff worked _fast. _

The closest landline was in the study. He picked it up, dialed 911 and dropped it. He ducked past Father in the hall, and got to the next landline. He dialed 911 again. He ran. Father was growling.

Danny didn't think he'd get to the next one before Father caught up to him, so he hid in a closet.

Which happened to have a false back that Danny knocked into and opened. Oh. So _there _was the shield generator. Crap. Maybe he should have looked for it a little harder before he involved the police.

He pulled the 'off' lever, then started whacking the thing with a broom, intending to break it. The closet door was flung open, and Vlad dragged him out.

Neither of them had access to their ghost powers. The fight was between a recently electrocuted, recently stabbed, powerfully built 40-something-year-old man with martial arts training and practical experience who had been exercising regularly and a drugged, skinny, somewhat malnourished 16-year-old with martial arts training and practical experience who had been in an induced coma just two weeks ago.

Danny lost the fight badly.

Which is why the police walked in on Vlad Masters dragging said semiconscious and bloody 16-year-old down the hall. Not a great image.

.

Danny sat on the back of an ambulance outside Father's castle, a notebook and pencil in his lap. His words were shaky and awkward, but he was relieved he could write anything. At first, he had tried to explain what had happened to him without sounding like a lunatic or talking about ghosts, then decided it didn't matter. His initial bloodwork had made the paramedic blanch. He must have _so _many drugs in him.

The scene they had walked in on, and the lab, if they found it, would probably be enough, and if there was any justice in the world, Father's aphasia would be permanent.

He handed the notebook to the detective. She read it, slowly. "You mean, those dental implants? He did that to you?"

They weren't really implants, but he nodded.

"Can you explain what you mean by, he stole your voice?"

Danny took the notebook back, and wrote, 'He did this to me. I could talk before.'

"Masters is having some difficulty there, as well," said the other detective.

Danny nodded. 'I did it to him because he did it to me. Its the drug in the syringe.'

"We'll have to test that," muttered one of the detectives.

"Well," said a paramedic, crossly. "He's definitely been abused. Look at these." She pointed at Danny's wrist, still encircled by the bracelet. "What even _are _they? Don't you have anything that can cut them off?"

The detectives shrugged.

'I just want to go home,' wrote Danny. 'Please.'

The first detective rubbed her eyes. "We're trying to contact your family, kiddo. In the meantime, you're headed to the hospital."

Danny nodded in understanding. His family might not even realize he was gone, and he looked so different now. Maybe he could undo some of the changes once he had access to his ghost form, but for now.

He sighed and looked up at the stars. They were so beautiful tonight.


End file.
